


A Day in the Life of Edward Elric

by CaraAkame



Series: Where Life Has Led You [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 04:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8149487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraAkame/pseuds/CaraAkame
Summary: Knowing that Edward Elric is the only person more married to his work than he is, Roy Mustang decides to surprise him at work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, point out mistakes please!  
> The rating is because there is a bit of hospital stuff, and I think I need to rate it T for that. I'm not good at ratings, so for all of my fics, be so kind as to tell me if it's wrong!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

“Do you mean to tell me that after the blind date, you’re going on an _actual_ date, brother? Knowing who it is? And _you_ suggested it? What happened to ‘ _I have no time for relationships_ ’?”, Al says as soon as Edward comes home and fills him in on his evening.

It was a nice date, though he was more of an escort than anything else, but it was still fun.

He and Roy nearly managed to eat all of the food, too, but then Riza Hawkeye showed up and looked at Roy with that look Alphonse sometimes gets when he thinks Ed’s being rude. Those two are never allowed to meet. Maes Hughes is bad enough.

“Yes, _Al_ , I even suggested it myself. I was joking, but he still agreed, so I didn’t correct him. I mean I think I told him he could just buy me dinner as thanks, but he looked happier to spend money on my food than I am going to be when I eat it. Probably.”, Edward replies, with only a minimal amount of eye-rolling. Al should be proud.

“Well, that’s not the part that surprises me. But, brother, when on earth have you become good a flirting? You have no practice and your brain usually doesn’t leave space for civility, much less _flirting_.”, the younger Elric says, looking very funny with his eyes blown so wide in surprise. If he weren’t so happy his brother had facial expressions, he might have been offended. Probably not, though.

“That’s – okay, well yeah, that’s true, but I don’t know, seemed like such a good opening, my mouth just did that on its own and I decided to roll with it. What goes, Al, I thought you’d be happy?”, Ed tells his little brother, frowning in a way that isn’t even a little bit convincing.

“I’m extremely happy for you, brother! I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, you said it yourself, between teaching, studying and helping out at the hospital, you barely have time for the Hughes’.”, Alphonse replies.

“I know, Al. Good thing is, Roy has absolutely no time for me either, so nobody will be butt hurt. He said he’s perfectly happy with picking me up from the hospital and taking me for an extremely early breakfast instead. Or auditing a class and taking me to lunch after. Which is weird. Who wants to audit someone’s class as a form of spending time together? Or stay up until 3am just to have breakfast?”, Edward asks his brother, genuinely curious.

Alphonse starts snickering somewhere in the middle of that sentence and bursts into a fit of giggles at the end.

Edward just stares at him until he finally replies: “Good lord, brother. It truly had to have been a fluke when you asked him on a date. You are the most clueless person I have ever met. He wants to spend time with you and doesn’t care what it is you’re doing. Did somebody tell him you have four PhD’s?”

“Well, yes, Armstrong was there. Remember him? Huge guy, bald except for that little blond curl on his forehead? Looks like Sid, just sparklier? Came to visit Hughes once or twice? Roy asked how many languages I speak, for some reason, and looked a little bit sick when I told him.”, Ed replies, still not quite sure what the big deal is.

“Congratulations, Ed, I think you found someone who likes your brain.”, the younger Elric says with a laugh. Smiling, Edward replies: “What else would they like me for? It’s my best quality.”

 ----- 

“Maes, why didn’t you tell me he was that kid from Resembool? And that he’s, you know, _perfect_? What’s the catch? There’s always a catch.”, Roy’s voice sound out of the headpiece of the telephone in Maes’ hand.

“My, my, I _did_ judge correctly. I thought I’d let you figure that out yourself. I was sure he’s your type. Athletic, brilliant, you know, the usual. The catch, _Roy_ , is that he’s a good decade younger than you and seems to be even more married to his work than you are. And, you know, that big taboo thing. But I doubt any of those things are really a problem for you.”, Maes replies, feeling extremely smug.

“He asked me on a date, Maes. I mean, more like told me to by him dinner if I felt like I owed him something for, you know, saving you, but it counts, right? That counts as asking out? Oh my God, I sound like you. What is wrong with me.”, Roy says, sounding genuinely distressed about it.

“Nothing’s wrong, Roy. You’re excited. Just like me when I talk about my beautiful wife and daughter!”, Maes says, hearing the dial tone as soon as he uttered the word ‘ _wife_ ’. Which was to be expected, Roy always hangs up at that point.

 

“Gracia! Roy has a date with Ed!”, he shouts to his – aforementioned – beautiful wife.

“Really? That’s wonderful! Though I wonder how on earth they’ll manage to find the time. Neither of them has any. They visit us once a week, and that’s only because it’s tradition and has been permanently added to the calendar.”, she replies, walking into the hallway so she won’t have to shout back.

He smiles at her – she really _is_ beautiful – and says: “I know; I’ve been wondering about that. I’m sure they’ll manage somehow.”

\----- 

Mondays are the worst for Ed. His students are always the biggest jerks on Mondays – really, it’s not his fault that the lecture is at 8am, he’d much rather have a later one too – and the hospital has a bunch of suicides, which always drains Ed because not only is he pissed off that people off themselves, some of them only ‘try’ it for attention and even say so themselves, which Ed just doesn’t understand. If you want attention there has to be better ways. Like wearing a really bright coat and being really loud. If you feel like suicide is the only way out of your misery, he understands that perfectly. It’s obviously not really a solution, but Ed was very much considering at some point in his life. If he hadn’t had his brother to return to his body, he might have done it.

And then there’s jackasses that feel like killing just themselves is not enough. There was one time, some asshole blew up his apartment, killing or at least maiming everybody who was in an apartment bordering his. Or an idiot flying a plane into a bridge. This hospital got a lot of corpses that day.

 

Basically, his alarm clock ringing at 6am this Monday makes him want to just hurl it at a wall. He doesn’t because Al got really mad last time, but the urge is there. Thankfully, his brother is a saint, who always makes breakfast when he comes home from the hospital at 5:30am before going to bed. Ed always wakes him up with lunch in return. After lunch it’s off to the hospital for both of them, but Ed usually goes home earlier so he can at least have five hours of sleep.

On Fridays and Saturdays, he usually takes a night shift in addition because those nights usually are the most crowded. It’s a tried and tested system.

Which means that when Ed gets downstairs, there’s probably some eggs and bacon waiting for him, along with coffee in the pot. Nothing is quite as much of a motivator as that prospect.

After dressing slowly in that early morning trance and cursing the university for the early ass classes, he makes his way downstairs, tells his brother ‘welcome home’, and grabs the ‘best professor’ mug that Al already put next to the coffee machine and pours himself a cup of strong coffee.

After breakfast he heads to the university. Today is some Foreign Alchemy class – he always gets them mixed up – probably Aerugan. He’ll check the curriculum in his office.

He didn’t intend on teaching, really, but he was only allowed to do his research at the university faculties, if he taught something. Apparently that was common practice in Amestris. He likes it, though. He’s got some smart people in there. Not as many as in Modern Alchemy, but that’s to be expected. Very few people actually care about other countries. Most people in this class came here after he recommended studying the foreign types to complete the knowledge of Modern Alchemy, since Amestris took a few concepts from them.

He enters the staff room and groggily greets his colleges before grabbing yet another cup of coffee. He has a coffee machine in his office, but Al keeps telling him to interact with his peers and this is the most he can manage at 7:30 in the morning.

Then he makes a short stop at his office/lab. They gave him a room and said ‘have at it’, so it’s really just a mess of lab equipment, books and things you need to make yourself a snack.

Checking his schedule, he sees he was correct. 8am – Foreign Alchemy, Aerugan.

He has about 20 minutes left, so he might as well go to the classroom.

He enters it from the staff door – he used to be really confused why he was supposed to do that until that one time he barely made it in time and couldn’t get to the normal door to unlock it because everybody was standing in front of it – and dumps his bag on the floor next to the desk every room has along with a chair nobody uses.

Then he writes his name and the course title on the massive blackboard with care, so people can read his handwriting. Then he puts his pile of notes next to the normal door. He started doing that when people had to ask him 3 times what he was actually writing. He either types them up or has Al and the Hughes’ write them for him and then copies them with Alchemy. He leaves space for the arrays because those he always puts on the board perfectly. And the students need a reason to come to class. Without the arrays, the notes are useless.

Then he unlocks the door and knocks his signature knock to tell them they can get in anytime starting in ten seconds. He told them that after he nearly got his face smashed in by the door opening and then trampled by the rush to get the good seats.

He walks to his spot in front of the board and sits on his desk.

Like the well trained students they are, they enter the class single file and grab a bundle of notes each. Took him a month to get them to do it that smoothly. He has a different seating chart for every day. He mostly alternates the rows and then randomly mixes the people in them. The chart is on the first page of their notes.

Most people tell him it’s too much work to do every day, but it’s worth it because his students behave. It might also be because he traps people in their chairs after the lesson, making them have to explain to some other professor that they were late because they annoyed Professor Ed.

He starts writing today’s course goals on the board while everybody settles into their seats. Usually the classroom is silent at this point, but there’s a low murmur going through the group. Slightly agitated, he turns around and says: “Do I have blood in my hair again?”, because that was the reason last time.

Before anyone can tell him what’s wrong, he spots his new student and the disruption.

A student that could probably benefit from this class, but really should be at work.

Who is already an accomplished Alchemist.

A State Alchemist.

With black hair and eyes.

Looking slightly sheepish.

“Ah. Hello Roy. Shouldn’t you be at work?”, Ed asks him, his famous ‘run like hell right now or you won’t get out of that chair anytime soon’- smile firmly in place.

Mustang doesn’t even flinch. Everybody just stares at the older man in amazement.

“I’m sorry, Ed. I didn’t want to disrupt your class. It seems I came down with a terrible cold and had to take the day off.”, the idiot says, leaning onto his folded hands, elbows on the table.

“I’ll deal with you later. I’m not throwing you out, but you _will_ participate in class. And you lot”, Ed looks at the room at large, “will pay attention. Just because he’s a State Alchemist, doesn’t mean he can’t learn anything new. Besides, we’re starting a new type of Alchemy today, as you can all see on the board, and this particular brand of Alchemy our esteemed General should at least learn the basics of.”

Excited chatter, good. That’s the type he likes. Ed spares a glance at Roy who is looking rather horrified at the words ‘Aerugan Water-Alchemy’. Smirking smugly - he could not have planned this better himself – he starts his lecture:

“Now. I’m not here to give you a Geography lesson, I assume everybody knows where Aerugo is. If not, ask your neighbor silently or look it up after class. It’s not really all that important, but you should know where every bordering country is. Now, apart from Amestris, Aerugo is bordered by Creta, the Great Desert and the Ocean. Unsurprisingly, their Alchemy is generally water-based, but all their arrays have quite a distinct look. As you can see in this basic array…”

 -----

“Great lesson, Professor Ed!”, a cute girl tells him after he dismisses the class.

“Thanks, Lynn. Now hurry along, you know how Professor Grand gets.”, Ed replies.

“Yes, Professor.”, she says, wilting visibly at the prospect of that boring excuse for a Professor.

He doesn’t pack up his bag, since his Cretan lesson is in ten minutes, but sits down at his desk. Standing for long periods of time makes his automail leg protest.

“It really was a great lesson, Ed. Tell me, is there a way to waterproof things with this Alchemy?”, Roy asks him, and he startles. Ed forgot that Mustang was here.

“Want to be less useless on rainy days, Roy? But to answer your question: no.”, he replies, laughing at Mustang’s disappointed expression. He takes pity on him and adds: “You asked wrong. _Aerugan_ Alchemy doesn’t have a way. _Cretan_ Alchemy on the other hand…”

Roy looks surprised and asks: “How come? Wouldn’t a water based Alchemy have more use for waterproofing arrays?”

“I can tell you spent a lot of time studying one specific branch of Alchemy, but disregarding any other science except for possibly the small part of Physics and Chemistry that regards molecules.”, Ed replies, rolling his eyes at the stupidity. Mostly for show.

Roy looks very confused. It’s hilarious. Edward continues: “You should look into biology if you want to know about waterproofing. There are plants that repel water from their leafs. Without going into detail there, you can use Alchemy to replicate that process. Cretan Alchemy is plant-based, so they studied that particular attribute and found a way to copy it. Before you ask, no, I will not tell you how to do it because my specialty is water Alchemy and I’d like to keep that weapon in my arsenal for now. You can enroll and hear about it once we get to Cretan Alchemy, which might take a while, or you can hope at some point I’ll take pity on you.”

Mustang just huffs and says: “If I could enroll, I would. This actually sounds like a fantastic course, but I don’t think I’d have the time. I guess I’ll have to hope for a miracle.”

“Probably. You staying for the next class too? It’s Basic Cretan.”, the younger man asks, to which the General replies: “Hm. Might as well. Do you not mind? I’m sorry to just show up here, but I didn’t know how else to spend time with you.”

Mustang is going out of his way to see him – even chancing getting shot by his second in command – so how could he possibly mind. Smiling, Ed replies: “No, it’s fine. As long as you don’t disrupt class, I don’t mind. And thanks. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be repaying the favor anytime soon. The military might be better now, but I doubt I’ll be welcome just showing up there.”

“No, I agree. Do you want to get lunch after this class?”, Roy asks, his _qi_ practically shouting ‘ _please_ ’. Regretting the answer slightly, he replies: “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to get home and wake up Al with something edible. You can come with, if you’d like?”

Roy smiles at the invitation, then seems to get an idea, and says: “I’d like that. How about I cook something for all of us and hope it gets me in your brother’s good graces. Maes tells me he’s the scarier brother.”

Thinking about how his brother can kick his ass any time, Ed replies: “He’s right.”

 ----- 

“That smells really good, brother, what is that?”, Alphonse’s sleepy voice drifts down the stairs.

“Oh! Alphonse don’t forget your pants, Mustang’s here.”, Ed shouts up the stairs more loudly than strictly necessary.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Ed. Hello, General. I should have known; Ed never cooks something that smells _this_ good.”, Alphonse tells the older man once he’s made it into the kitchen. He’s wearing pajamas with cats on them, which is kind of adorable, even though his eyes sparkle the same way Maes’ do. That kind that means _run, run now_.

“Hey, be nice, Al. And you call me rude.”, Ed grumbles.

“Yes, yes, Ed. So, to what do we owe the pleasure?”, Alphonse asks Roy, his eyes not leaving the older man’s face.

“I’m afraid I came down with a terrible cold and couldn’t go into the office. I felt the best way to recover would be to audit Ed’s classes.”, Mustang replies.

Alphonse smiles and says: “Yes, in my professional opinion, you look very sick. So sick, in fact, that you should come with us to the hospital.”

“Definitely. That seems like the most responsible course of action.”, Roy replies, putting on his best conspiratorial expression.

“Is he allowed, Al?”, Ed interjects.

“I doubt he’s allowed in the OR, but he can keep you company at the Drop Off. You know how Mondays are, might not be a bad idea.”, Alphonse replies. Then he addresses at Roy, an honest expression on his face: “Monday is suicide day. I’m always surrounded by people, but Ed’s generally alone there. I don’t think he minds most days, but we all get a little bit depressed after a few hours.”

Mustang would have expected Ed to say something about how he’s not lonely, but it must be pretty bad because the older Elric just nods.

 ----- 

A few hours in, Roy can’t help but agree with Alphonse. So far there have been three people – who must still be in school – who have tried to cut their wrists, two people who drove their car into other cars on purpose and one gunshot to the head. Which makes six patients so far – if he includes the victims of the car crashes – and it’s halfway into Ed’s shift.

Roy can’t judge well who will make it. The gunshot to the head guy wasn’t even examined by Ed – not much to do there – and some of the car crashes looked really bad.

“Two to Six. Not a bad ratio.”, Ed says. Then he sees Mustang’s confused expression and adds: “By my count, if I include the gunshot guy, we have two dead and six with an above fifty percent chance of survival. Sadly, the other probable corpse is one of the people who didn’t want to die. The woman from the first crash. I doubt she even made it to the ER.”

“You said not a bad ratio. What’s the usual ratio?”, Roy asks, not sure if he really wants to know.

“God, I don’t know. Horrible days are more dead than alive. Good days are more alive than dead. Bad days are where it’s pretty much even. I guess on average it’s 40/70. I have a system of counting there, though. I go by percentage, so if somebody has a chance under 50 percent, I count them as dead. Over 50, alive. The ones under 60 percent I send to my brother because he’s the best. Mr. Hughes was a rare 50 percent chance. There were so many factors. Shock, dislodged bullet, reactions to anything, possible medication or sickness.”, Edward tells him.

Before Roy can say anything in reply, another patient arrives.

 ----- 

“My God, Maes.”, is the first thing Roy says on Tuesday at lunch.

“I take it you actually went to the lecture yesterday.”, Maes replies, knowing there must be more to it.

“Yes, and it was fantastic. I’ll tell you about that in a bit, including the gossip – it’s juicy. But I actually spent the whole day with him. Lectures at eight in the morning, lunch at their place and then the hospital. Apparently Monday is Suicide Day. It’s exhausting. And depressing. So many kids trying to kill themselves and a whole lot of bastards who kill other people with their own attempt. One guy survived, but killed the woman in the car he drove into. And Ed told me some of the others. Like someone actually blew up most of his apartment complex to kill himself and took a good ten people with him, not counting the ones that will be crippled forever.”, Roy tells him, completely ignoring his – admittedly disgusting – canteen lunch. High rank might give you a separate room, but the food is the same.

“He told me about the day you got shot too. He said it was one of the bad days where there are about the same amount of people who end up dead and who make it. Apparently you were a 50/50. He said he gave you a ‘depends’ stamp. As in, all of the factors like shock and that blasts bullet dislodging gave you a chance of 30-70 percent. It was luck, Maes.”, the General adds, looking shocked at that fact.

It’s not a surprise to Maes. They told them as much, but Roy seemed to have not believed it the first time. Changing the subject abruptly, Hughes says: “You said there’s gossip.”

Roy looks surprised at the sudden change, but doesn’t question it. Instead he smirks and says: “Did you know that somehow the students have organized a way to rate the professors? There’s categories. There’s most boring, which is some guy called Grand. Maybe he’s related to the late General? There’s also sexiest professor and it seems that Ed won at a landslide. Again. When I waited for the doors I heard some other funny things. Like a lot of the girls in his class take some of his lectures just because he’s good looking. It’s hilarious. I don’t know if I can tell him, but I just can’t help but agree with them.”


End file.
